


Didn't We Almost Have It All?

by Summertime9_7Cynic



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, F/F, Friendship, Jealousy, Lesbian Character, Love, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-21 04:45:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9532034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summertime9_7Cynic/pseuds/Summertime9_7Cynic
Summary: Estranged almost-lovers Franky Doyle and Bridget Westfall struggle to get through their past...can they move on or are they forever doomed to wonder what could have been?





	1. Chapter 1

It'd been four years since I'd walked out of those prison gates. Four years since I'd seen her. Every time I thought about her, which despite my best efforts not to was nearly every day, I felt a painful tightness in my chest as if someone was gripping my heart and twisting it as tightly as possible whenever her face flashed through my mind. Sometimes the pain felt good. Or maybe it was just the fact that I could still feel something, anything, after all that had happened to me that felt so good. Other times, it hurt badly enough that more often than not I would have gladly welcomed death. Maybe than I could get some relief. Or maybe not.

"You know," Bea sighed from her seat next to me, "Typically when you invite someone for drinks, it's because you want to talk to them and not the voices in your head."

I smiled despite myself and elbowed her playfully in the ribs. She smiled back and looped her arm around my neck, nodding towards the stage. Her former prison wife, or girlfriend, or whatever the hell she was these days was on an elevated platform with a bunch of other blondes dancing to some god-awful pop music.

"How hot is she?" Bea smirked. I rolled my eyes and shoved her off.

"Guess it's a good thing I was out of the picture when she got in," I teased. "You did good, Red."

The stupid song finally ended and the young blonde, admittedly very hot, jumped down and strutted over, wrapping her arms around Bea's neck and pulling her in for a deep kiss. I fought back the feeling of anger suddenly bubbling up inside me and quickly looked away, counting my breaths and trying to rationalize in my mind. I had to keep it together. Just because I was miserable didn't mean I had to wish everyone else was to. Clearing my throat loudly, I forced myself to turn back to them and put on my best devil may care smile.

"If you two lovebirds are done trying to eat each others faces off, that'd be great" I announced loudly. Bea blushed deeply and pulled back, but Allie, refusing to allow any more distance than necessary between them, kept one arm firmly secured around Bea's waist.

"Jealous?" she remarked cheekily, her blue eyes sparkling playfully.

"Please," I snorted. "I don't get jealous. I could have any woman in this bar."

"Oh?" she challenged, cocking her eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"Have you told your girlfriend nothing about me?" I complained to Bea, letting fake disappointment seep into my voice. She laughed and pulled Allie in closer.

"You know I hate admitting when Franky's better than me at something," Bea began, "But if there's one thing about Franky Doyle it's that she like a woman whisperer or something. She's the expert in getting women to do what she wants."

"Well I beg to differ on that one," Allie grinned, pressing her body against Bea's.

I rolled my eyes and stood up, announcing that I couldn't take another second of their lovey dove shit without losing my lunch. I walked over to the bar and ordered my fifth scotch of the night. Probably not the brightest idea considering I had to drive home, but what the hell right? The worst that could happen would be getting sent back to prison, but how bad would that be really? Maybe than I would be able to see her. It was a stupid thought to have, especially drunk, but I couldn't help but entertain it. She'd be pissed sure, but even that might be fun. Maybe than she'd feel just a tiny fraction of the anger I'd felt when she'd left me to fend for myself. Or maybe she'd be happy just to see me. I wasn't sure which scenario was more appealing.

"I sure hope you're not planning on driving tonight," a familiar voice commented behind me.

I spun around, nearly dropping my glass in surprise. I had found myself face to face with Mr. Jackson, one of my favorite former guards at Wentworth. Despite trying to look stern, he couldn't help but smile and envelop me in a brief hug which I gladly returned.

"Mr J!" I exclaimed cheerfully. "How the hell are ya?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, nodding to the drink in my hand. "Drowning your post-prison sorrows?"

"Maybe," I smiled. "Maybe I'm just homesick."

Jackson rolled his eyes and took a seat next to me, ordering a beer for himself. He looked almost exactly as I'd remembered him, right down to the leather jacket and biker boots. The only evidence that any time had passed for him was a slight crinkling around his eyes.

"So," I began, "Vinegar Tits still governor?" Jackson smiled despite himself.

"Vera," he emphasized, "no longer works for Wentworth. Put in for a transfer fro the U.S. and moved 3 weeks later. Haven't heard from her since."

"Holy shit!" I nearly shouted. "The U.S.? The Freak must have done a number on her that she had to leave the country. So who's the new Governor?"

"You're looking at him," Jackson smirked proudly. "Smiles is my deputy."

"That's fantastic, congrats Mr. J!"

"Thanks," he smiled. "Enough about me. What have you been up to? Respecting your freedom I hope?"

"Since when do I not obey the rules?" I asked innocently, earning an eye roll.

"Fine," he shrugged. "Don't tell me than. Just stay out of trouble and if you can't do that, don't get caught. If you get sent back, I won't go easy on you."

I raised my glass in acknowledgment and he gave me small smile, clicking his beer against my glass. We sat like that for awhile, in comfortable silence. Him drinking his beer, and me drinking my Scotch, both reflecting on how much had changed over the years. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, sizing him up. He seemed in a fairly good mood. Maybe I could ask him…

"THERE you are!" I groaned as Allie came bouncing up to me, cheeks flushed and a gleaming smile on her face. Jesus, was this girl ever not happier than a junkie on gear?

"Novak?"

"Mr. Jakcson!" Allie exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, drinking" he replied, looking like a deer in headlights. I couldn't help but laugh.

"It's a reunion," I remarked. "Felons only. Red's here too."

"Smith's here?" Jackson asked, looking surprised. "I didn't know she drank."

"Uh Mr. J, we were in prison remember? No one drank." I pointed out.

"You did," he shot back. I snorted, knowing full well he had me on that one. Between me and Booms, Jackson himself must have recovered enough booze to stock a small bar for a lifetime.

"Bea said she needs to talk to you," Allie interrupted, pulling on my arm. "It's important. Come on!"

I sighed, reminding myself that killing Red's annoying puppy-like girlfriend was not in anyone's best interest. Giving Mr. Jackson a lazy, two-fingered salute I allowed myself to be pulled through a throng of sweaty, alcohol-infused bodies towards a table in the corner. Bea was leaned over it, both palms on the table, looking as if she was trying to catch her breath. I hurried over and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Whoa Red, you alright?" I asked, genuinely concerned. She nodded, waving me away before slowly straightening up.

"Sorry, liquor caught up with for a moment there," she grinned, straightening out her shirt.

"What was so important you pulled me away from my Kumbuya with Jackson?" I demanded.

"Jackson's here?"

"That's what I just said didn't I?" I snapped. "What's up?"

Bea rolled her eyes at the tone of my voice and just grabbed my arm, leaving me no choice but to follow suit. I gritted my teeth together, mentally making a list of the reasons returning to Wentworth for homicide was a bad idea. I was getting really tired of being pulled around. We got to the bar where Bea sat me on the bar stool and turned me to face her, grinning at me like she just read me off the winning numbers to the fucking lottery.

"What?" I asked exasperatedly. "Just tell me."

"Look over my shoulder," she insisted. "Black jacket, white shirt."

I rolled my eyes and did as she instructed-and froze. You know how they say when your about to die, your life flashes before your eyes and you either feel peaceful or panicky? And the peace is the best thing you've ever felt, but the panic is the worst? I had a feeling I was experiencing the panicky part, which quickly tripled the second she looked up and met my eyes.

A wave of emotions crossed over her face in what could have only been a few seconds but what felt like a few years. As if time was torturing me, forcing me to watch every ounce of shock, happiness, pain, and lastly guilt that crossed her heartbreakingly beautiful features. The hand was back in my chest again, tightening on my heart and twisting, cutting off my oxygen supply. I would have gladly welcomed death at that moment and maybe even would have gotten it if Red and her stupid lapdog hadn't of snapped me out of it.

"Franky? Franky!"

Time was moving normally again and I forced myself to look away from her face and into Bea's. She was gripping my shoulders with both hands, staring at me with an expression a mother might have when her child was sick.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "You look like you've just seen the Grim Reaper."

"I wish it was the Grim Reaper I saw," I spat out. "Anything would have been better than her. Why the fuck would you do that to me? Are you that fucking stupid?"

"What?" Bea yelped, looking shocked. "But you two-I thought-"

"You thought what?" I hissed. "That me and the prison psych were gonna live happily ever after? Don't you think if I wanted to talk to her, it would have happened in the four years since I've been released?"

"Well I-"

"Fuck you Red," I snarled. "I'm outta here."

Grabbing my jacket and ignoring the mixture of shock and guilt on Bea's face, I slid off my barstool and shouldered my way through the crowd and towards the door. Four years I'd spent trying to forget the past but one drink with the wrong person, and BAM! Half the people from it come flooding from everywhere like some kind of disease. This really was a sick joke on the Universe's part. As if I hadn't done my time for my sins, now I had to relive them all over again?

I stumbled to my car, cursing as I tried to get my key in the keyhole and making a mental note to get one of those beepers so I wouldn't have this problem. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. I really shouldn't be driving anyway. Finally giving up, I shoved my keys in my pocket and slumped against my car, holding my head in my hands.

What a fucking night to be alive.

I froze at the all too familiar sound of clicking heels making their way for me. Praying to any deity bothering to listen, I willed her to stay away from me. Surely she wasn't that stupid. But than again, this did seem to be the night for people to make shockingly dumb decisions so I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when Bridget hesitantly approached me, an uncertain look on her face. She crossed her arms and showered despite that fact that it was over 70 degrees out and looked at me earnestly, as I stared cooly back.

"Can I help you?" I asked, barely recognizing the coldness of my own voice. This wasn't me. This was old me. But hey, whatever it takes to get through a conversation that was sure to haunt me a lifetime.

"Franky-"

"Don't bother," I interrupted. "And don't you dare come any fucking closer. I got nothing to say to you."

"Then just listen," she pleaded, leaning forward as if she was going to take another step and then seemingly thinking better of it.

"Good choice," I commented. She sighed and looked down, still crossing her arms tightly against her chest as if she'd fall apart otherwise.

"Look I know I've made some mistakes," she began, "And I know I hurt you. Badly. But-"

"You didn't hurt me," I corrected. "You pissed me off. And when I get pissed off, I don't get over it. Ever."

"We both know that's not true," Bridget sighed, sounding tired. "You can call it whatever you want. Maybe I didn't hurt you. But I…compromised what we had and that was an enormous mistake."

"Ya think?" I asked sarcastically.

"There's-there's a lot I really want to say to you," Bridget admitted. "Things I should have said before and things that I should say now after-after what happened."

"Is that what we're calling it?" I sneered. "What happened? What happened was you made me think that I could trust you, you told me I could trust you and that you had my back, but the second shit got real you split without so much as a 'well you would have been a nice fuck!'"

"You know I thought more of you than that!"

"Do I?"

Without realizing it, I'd began to close the distance between Bridget and myself during my rant and now we were standing practically nose to nose. She was flushed, from anger or something more I was unsure, but I didn't particularly care at the moment. Even with my infamous thousand yard stare, she stared determinedly back, not wavering a bit. I tried to ignore the sweet fragrance of her perfume invading my nostrils, or the way the hair on the back of my neck raised when she bit her lower lip.

"I cared about you," she whispered softly. "It may have been a physical attraction initially but it developed deeper the more time we spent together."

The childlike question slid off my lips before I could stop it.

"Did you love me?"

Bridget's sudden intake of breath let me know I hit a nerve. Something flashed across her eyes but it was gone before I could figure out what it was. This was it. Now or never. The question was out there and I couldn't take it back. Which meant she couldn't get out of answering it. Here we were, standing toe to toe in a parking lot, drunk, raw and exposed, finally saying what should have been said years ago.

"Yes," she admitted. "Yes, I loved you Franky. I still do. So why won't you let me?"

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut, but not necessarily in a bad way. I'd been wondering the answer to that question for years and now that I finally had it, I didn't know what to do with it. I was so angry and despite saying I wasn't, I was hurt, but I couldn't ignore the fact that the woman I'd once loved was finally saying it. I'd spent those first few years after being released hating her for making me love her, even after leaving me, and now it was like the fire inside me had been replaced with cold snow. The anger wasn't there anymore. But I didn't know if the love was there either. If she would have just said something all those years ago when I needed to hear it, maybe I would have realized that it wasn't so easy for her to walk away and never come back. Maybe I could have forgiven her, just a little. I wouldn't even know how to begin to try at this point. Much less if I wanted to.

"Why won't I let you?" I repeated. "I tried. I tried and I tried and I tried but you just insisted-"

"You were in prison!"

"You could have still said something!" I shouted. "You could have just told me, at least before you left instead of all that bullshit about trying to protect me!"

"I was trying to protect you!"

"Well I protected myself!" I shot back. "I did that without any help from you or anyone else! I didn't need you than and I sure as shit don't need you now. So you know what? You can take all your feelings and your love, and you can shove them up your arse but I am warning you Westfall, don't fucking come near me again!"

Bridget swallowed hard and took few steps back, looking as if she'd been slapped in the face. I forced myself to keep a passive face and ignore the way the hurt in her eyes made my heart hurt just as much. She slowly nodded before turning around, shoulders slumped and shuffling back towards the bar.

 

To Be Continued…


	2. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short piece...enjoy!

“Why won’t you let me love you?” 

Bridget’s words echoed in my mind all night long as I tossed and turned in my suddenly uncomfortable bed. Usually I fell asleep like a baby, but between the alarming amount of alcohol I’d consumed, and the unfortunate run in with the past, sleep was out of the question. I blacked out every few hours sure, but that hardly qualified as sleep. I had faint recollections of Bea and Allie coming across me in the parking lot and hoisting me over their shoulders, struggling to get me in their car. Once they’d managed to do that I’d blacked out again. I came to as they were tossing me on my bed, the lingering scent of my cheap perfume indicating that they’d at least managed to get me into my own apartment. For that I was grateful. Looked like Queen Bea had a soft spot for drunks as well. 

After that, Bridget had come to visit me. Not physically of course. Whether it was visions, twisted memories or plain old dreams I wasn’t sure. Nonetheless, the pain still felt as if she was standing right in front of me, in the flesh. My mind was still having trouble processing the fact that 4 years after she’d walked out on me and any chance of a future we had together, she had just happened to be sitting not five feet from me. Bridget. Even though it was only 4 years ago, it felt like a lifetime. And during that lifetime she had meant the absolute world to me. I had shunned her. But what else was I supposed to do? Just let her back in like she was innocent? Innocent. A word that shouldn't even be allowed to cross my mind much less take up residency in my vocabulary. 

“Franky?” Bea’s voice cut through whatever alcohol induced phase I was currently floating in. 

I groaned as I sat up too fast, my head screaming in protest. 

“What’s up Red?” I rasped. 

“Ummm…”  

“Spit it out,” I snapped irritably. “Please,” I added weakly, momentarily remembering just show shitty I’d been last night. Or however many hours ago this shit storm had gone down. 

“Uh, you…well, see the thing is-someone’s here to see you.” Bea sputtered. 

“Huh?” I groaned. “Who?” 

Instead of answering, Bea opened the door and an all too familiar figure stupid through the doorway. I groaned, praying to any deity that cared to listen that this was just another dream. There was no way in hell Red would be stupid enough to let her in my fucking house after the way I chewed her out last night. Seriously? Dear God, please let this be a fucked up dream. What I wouldn’t give. 

“Franky?” Bridget asked softly.


	3. No. 3

“Bea,” I growled slowly, “Please, please tell me you didn’t let this woman into my fucking apartment.”   

Bea sighed and ran a hand over her face, her expression a mix between frustration and something a little darker. I recognized that look. It was the same expression she had right before she found out the Holts were responsible for her daughters death; she was resuming her Top Dog role. Lucky for me this wasn’t prison. What was she gonna do, shiv me in my own shower? Prison rules had no room in my apartment and I’d make damn sure the both of them knew it. 

Ignoring my screaming headache and resistant limbs, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and planted my feet firmly on the floor, only swaying a little bit as I turned to face them both. Bea still looked pissed and Bridget…well Bridget just looked worn out. There were dark circles under her eyes like she hadn’t slept at all since the last time I saw her. I ignored the instinct to brush my hands across her face. I knew what that would cost me personally. 

“I’m only going to say this one time,” Bea announced, still assuming her Top Dog role. “Get the fuck over your ego and work out your shit, because whatever little attitude you’ve had the past few weeks is starting to get really fucking old. So fuck her or fight her, I don’t care. But deal with it.”   

Without waiting for a response, she turned and exited the room, pulling the door closed behind her and effectively locking me in the room with Bridget. After an uncomfortable silence, Bridget stepped forward tentatively. 

“So…” she began softly. “Are you ready to talk?” 

 

*I know guys, I know, I’m a tease. A much longer chapter is coming next, as soon as this beast charges. Enjoy!*


	4. 4.0

“Talk?” I repeated slowly, as if it was the first time I’d heard the word. 

“If-if that’s ok,” Bridget replied. “I want to say some things to you and I want you to let me. Please.”

  Gritting my teeth and forcing myself to choke back the automatic smart ass response that was on the tip of my tongue, I nodded curtly. The sooner she talked, the sooner I could get her out of my apartment and go on to whatever I would have been doing before her little interruption. A hot shower and an even hotter cup of coffee had never sounded so good. 

Bridget cleared her throat and took another small step forward in my direction. A low warning growl escaped my throat before I could stop it and Bridget quickly took a step back. She knew better than to challenge me when my already barely controlled temper reared its ugly head. 

“When I…left-I want you to know that wasn’t easy for me. I-you-“  

“Spare me the fucking sob story,” I snapped. “Would you just get on with your fake apology so I can take a shower? I look like shit and I feel even worse.”  

“You look beautiful,” Bridget corrected softly.   

That should have pissed me off. That should have made me angrier than I’d ever been in my life. Hell, that anger was what drove me to dominate Wentworth all the years that I did. Despite all the bullshit Bridget was currently throwing my way, she had been right about one thing. The anger drove me and had since I’d been a little kid. But still…there was something that shifted in her eyes when she said it that halted the fire simmering inside of me. While before they were clouded with guilt, there was something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. They were lighter somehow, softer. If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was true affection somewhere. 

“And my apology isn’t fake,” she added. “I really do want to apologize. I am truly sorry, Franky. More than you’ll ever know. I know it isn’t enough but I needed you to hear me say it and know I mean it. You-you changed something inside of me and it scared the hell out of me. I-“  

“So is that why you ran?” I interrupted. “Because you wanted to fuck me and it scared you? Is that really the best you can do?”  

Bridget swallowed hard and clasped her hands together. She lowered her eyes for a moment and when they met mine again, there was pain. And not just any pain-I’d seen that look before staring at myself in the mirror plenty of times. This was genuine torture. What exact hell she was living in, I couldn’t be sure of but it had to be pretty bad for her to have adopted that look. Feeling my resolve waver just a bit, I exhaled loudly and motioned for her to sit beside me. After just a moment of hesitation she quickly sat down, careful not to let any of our body parts brush against each other. Probably for the best. I may have agreed to let her talk, but I wasn’t sure I was quite ready for physical contact. Or that I ever would be. 

“I didn’t leave because I was scared,” she began. “And I didn’t just want to fuck you. At the beginning sure, but once I got to know more about you and saw how smart and truly good you are, it just-it became too complicated. I couldn’t make a proper judgment with anything concerning you. I wanted a relationship with you, and you know as well as me how badly that would have ended for the both of us.”    
“So you left.” This time it wasn’t an accusation, just a statement. 

“So I left,” she agreed. “I left hoping that you’d understand why, and that I could somehow mend whatever it was between us that I broke, once you got out. I never stopped caring about you, Franky.”  

I didn’t say anything for awhile. I sat there, painfully close to the woman who had stolen and later broken my heart, agonizingly aware of her sweet perfume and perfect eyes that were eagerly examining my face in a search for some indication that I understood. Which was probably the most painful thing of all. Because I did understand. Hell, I might have done the same thing in her position.

Only I wasn’t in her position. I was in mine. And in my position, I was the one left to pick up the pieces without any help from anyone. I was the one who spent countless nights in my cell, dealing with all these damn feelings she’d given me before disappearing. I was the one who wondered why I wasn’t even good enough for a goodbye. She could have said all this years ago, but she didn’t. While she was out doing God knows what, I was trapped in a cage, wondering where she was, who she was fucking. The sadness had quickly turned into anger, and the anger had been my only friend since. The anger had been the only thing I could rely on my entire life. I thought maybe Bridget could help with that, or maybe in a perfect world even replace that, but it wasn’t the case. 

I quickly stood up and cleared my throat, crossing my arms defensively. Making sure to keep my face passive, I stared at the spot just above Bridget’s head. I knew if I looked into her anguished eyes, there was a very good chance I’d lose all self-control. 

“So why now?” I asked, my tone sounding almost bored. “Why not 4 years ago? You could have told me all this before you left, it wouldn’t have made a difference.”  

“It would have certainly made a difference,” Bridget argued. “This is the conversation we needed to have face to face, not as I was being escorted out of a prison.”  

“So you get to decide everything, do ya?”  

“No, Franky I-“  

“Get out of my house,” I hissed. “I said you could talk, you’ve talked, and I still don’t give a shit about you or want you anywhere near me. So why don’t you leave and go find another lezzo doing hard time for assault to screw?” 

Bridget sighed and slowly stood up. Resting her hand on the doorknob, she turned around to look at me one last time before slumping her shoulders in defeat and walking out. 

Just like she does best.


	5. 5.0

As the hot water ran down my body, I rested my head against the cool tile and struggled to contain my thoughts. The last thing that I wanted to do at the moment was think, but Bridget’s words had been racking around my brain all day and no matter how much I tried to ignore them, nothing was working. All day I’d gone through the motions. After making sure Bridget had indeed cleared of my apartment, I went to work, I put on the charm for customers, I came home, read my mail, cooked an amazing meal, and hopped in the shower. 

It seemed my thoughts were louder in here. 

Leave it to Bridget to get in my head. I mean, I probably shouldn’t be surprised considering that she was a psych. She knew how to manipulate people. Except, Bridget never had manipulated me. She’d been the only person in my entire life who’d never turned her back on me since we’d met. She’s risked a lot for me, a prisoner with a fucked up past, and no matter how many times I tried to throw it back in her face she never gave up. She never gave up on me. 

Even now, she wasn’t giving up on me. I’d said horrible things to her, all but slapping her in the face physically and she still showed up to give me her version of the story. She was trying to make things right and I wouldn’t let her because my ego was too big and my pride too fragile. But what was I supposed to do? Just forgive her? Just pretend it never happened? Just because her feelings were valid, didn’t mean mine weren’t. I was entitled to all the pain and anger. I’d listened to her though, right? I’d heard her out. Just because she didn’t like my reaction to her story, didn’t mean it wasn’t an appropriate one. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

I jumped at the sudden intrusion of my thoughts, and nearly had a coronary as I took in the scene before me. No fucking way this was happening. No way on Earth this was happening. I closed my eyes and opened them again, but she was still there. 

Naked. In my shower. Bridget. Her hair was pinned up in a way that made my heart skip an actual beat, and the sight of water running down her body…so much better than my dreams. 

“Uh…I-I-I“ I sputtered, trying to come up with more than the incoherent babble currently streaming from my mouth. 

“Shhh,” Bridget said softly. “Don’t say anything. Not right now. Don’t think. Don’t talk. Just feel.”

  A small smile that looked suspiciously like a cat ate the canary expression I’d heard so much about graced her face, and she reached up and slowly stroked my jawline. I stiffened, involuntarily leaning into her touch. Bridget’s lips parted ever so slightly and she slowly inched closer until our stomachs were pressing together. Her hands moved from my jawline, down my sides, until they were gripping my hips tightly enough that I knew I’d have bruises tomorrow. 

“You asked me if I make all the decisions,” Bridget continued, pressing her body even further into mine. “And I don’t. But I’m making this one. Tonight there’s no you or me, there’s just us. Just let me have this.”  

“Bridget, I don’t think this is a good-“  

“Please,” she pleaded. “Let me have this. I need this…I need you. Just one night.”  

Fucking hell. The woman of my desires for the past 5 years was was naked, in my shower, sexy as hell, and practically begging me to have sex with her. What the hell was going on? This was so wrong. But so right. 

“Fuck it,” I growled, curling my hand around her neck and crashing my lips onto hers.


	6. 6.0

Whenever I had dreamed about being with Bridget, it had always been a very specific dream. Sure things varied here and there, but overall it had been the same. Soft, slow-basically the opposite of what I was used to. Except Bridget was different. She wasn’t just a fuck. She was someone who I wanted to take my time with. I wanted to worship every inch of her body-something I did in nearly every dream I had. 

Oh, how dreams lie.

A low growl escaped my throat, combining with the throating moans escaping Bridget. The sound was putting my libido into overdrive. I tightened my grip, smirking against her mouth as a slow gasp escaped from her. My free hand was making an excruciatingly slow journey from her throat, to the base of her neck, across her perfect breasts, stopping just above her naval. I swiped my thumb across her belly button, trapping my hand between our soaking wet bodies. She looped both her arms around my neck and tried to pull me closer, whimpering slightly when I pulled back. I smiled down at her, still circling her naval with my thumb. 

“Please,” she moaned. “Don’t tease me Franky.”  

“Shut the fuck up,” I growled. “Now you do what I say. Understand?” She whimpered again, and then let out a little yelp as I grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back. “I said…do you understand?”  

“Understand,” she gasped. “I understand.”  

“Good girl,” I murmured, pressing my lips to her neck. She arched and closed her eyes, the gasps coming from her mouth making my own water. 

Enough teasing. 

I slowly ran my hands down her stomach, stopping just above the promise land. While most of my mind was screaming to continue, a very, small, rational part of me knew that if I followed through with this things would change forever. There was no going back. Hell, who was I kidding? Things had already changed. 

Without warning I dipped my fingers into her, automatically coming into contact with her core. Another moan escaped her. I stayed still for a minute, letting her adjust to my fingers inside her. Her grinding against my hand let me know she needed no time for adjustment. I grinned and crashed my lips onto her again, slowly building up my speed. I let my other hand fall from her neck, run down her back and gripped her ass. God, I’d wanted to do that for so long. I gave it a final squeeze and hitched her leg up onto my waist. She groaned again, cupping my breasts in both hands. I continued to dominate her mouth with my own as I continued to work inside her. She clenched around my fingers suddenly and her breathing quickened. 

“I’m so close…” she moaned. “Please, don’t stop. I can’t-I-“  

“Show, don’t tell,” I ordered. “Show me what I’m doing to you.”  

At that, she arched even further back, her hands now gripping my hair so tightly I was surprised it didn’t come out at the roots. She clenched even tighter, eyes shut as tightly as they possibly could be, and after what seemed like a glorious eternity, finally exhaled and went limp. I let her leg fall to the ground and leaned back against the cool shower tile. Bridget slowly opened her eyes. 

“Did you…?” she began. I shook my head and her face fell. “I’m sorry,I-“  

I held up a hand to silence her, still trying to catch my own breath and get my bearings. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around what had just happened. Had I really just…? Did we….? 

Oh, fuck.


End file.
